


Get the Frog, Kiss the Prince

by lordvoldemortsnipple



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Case Fic, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, actually frogs are a lot of things, also frogs are a thing, princesses and kings ocs, some people kiss while under the spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 22:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14703792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordvoldemortsnipple/pseuds/lordvoldemortsnipple
Summary: Gaius said Merlin was being paranoid, and Arthur said he was just jealous of all the attention. Gwen had looked at him with pity, as if she had an idea why the whole thing was actually bothering him, but didn’t say anything supporting either, so she didn’t count. Three female heirs with their parents, all trying to get a firm alliance with Camelot, and no one thought something would go wrong.Merlin hadn’t really counted on everyone in the castle suddenly being in love with Arthur, but honestly it’s not that surprising, is it?





	Get the Frog, Kiss the Prince

**Author's Note:**

> After 300 years, here it is!  
> Shout out to [2070](http://2070.tumblr.com) who listened to me rambling about this fic far more than anyone should, and then on top of that did read it over and helped me fix some issues

“Long day ahead, sire,” Merlin says, waving the covers of Arthur’s bed before pulling them up. They’re still warm, and smell slightly musky. Not in a very pleasant way, but intimate, bringing to mind the way Merlin usually finds Arthur in the morning, when he manages to arrive on time. Today Arthur had still been asleep, mouth opened against the pillow, arms and legs thrown across the bed, his body unguarded and warm, and a sight only Merlin gets to see.

That should change soon, if the next few days go according to the king’s will.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Arthur says languidly, his voice drawling slightly.

Merlin turns to look at him. Arthur’s sitting at his table, slightly slouching, an elbow by his plate, the other grabbing some bread on the plate. He’s still in his undergarments, and he looks like his bed feels —  soft, comfortable and inviting, but unavailable for Merlin.

“I mean the parade of princesses that have come to woo you— you’re pulling my leg,” Merlin stops once he sees the look on Arthur’s face.

“No, Merlin, I merely forgot my father thought it’d be a good idea to marry me off as soon as he can,” Arthur replies dryly, almost snapping, as he scoops some ham onto the bread, “how glad I am that you’ve reminded me that’s starting today.” He looks angry as he puts the bread in his mouth, eyes on the table as he chews.

Merlin looks away, grabbing his pillow and fluffing it in silence. It’s not like he’s pleased with the idea either, but he can’t really say that now, can he? Arthur can’t know his reasons, and he’d go on about talk of treason, just because Uther suggested it. As if it’d be the first time Merlin went against the king’s wishes.

“You should pretend they’re me, when you talk to the princesses,” Merlin says, going around to the table, “that should make sure they’ve got no interest in you.”

Arthur scoffs, still not looking at him. “I can’t address a princess like one does their most useless servant.”

“Do you ever speak to princesses?” Merlin asks, grabbing the jar of water and refilling Arthur’s cup. “Do you need to practice? You have to be polite to them.”

“I know how to be polite, Merlin,” Arthur says. “You just want an excuse to try out another of Morgana’s—” he stops, and Merlin has to look away, even as Arthur continues his joking tone slightly forced, “another dress.”

It’s been a few months ever since Morgana disappeared, and Uther still has men going out searching for her. Merlin still sees her betrayed look, gasping for air after he poisoned, when he closes his eyes at night. Arthur takes it a little harder each time a new message with nothing to report comes to them, and Merlin’s guilt increases with it, but he hopes she never returns.

“I never wore a dress,” he says, shooting Arthur a glare.

“Of course you haven’t,” Arthur says. He pushes his finished plate aside and gets up. “Clothes,” he demands, opening his arms.

Merlin really doesn’t know what makes him like Arthur, but it’s certainly not the way the prince orders him around.

He stops fluffing the pillow to fetch Arthur’s clothes for the day and goes to his side. The prince has gotten up, but he can’t even trouble himself with taking off his nightgown, leaving to Merlin to tug it over his shoulders as if he’s a baby.

“You know,” he says, as he pushes the tunic over Arthur’s head, “knowing how to dress oneself is a sure way to impress a princess.”

“I suppose you’d know how to impress royalty,” Arthur says, fitting his arms in the sleeves, head tilt down slightly.

“I guess I do,” Merlin agrees easily, fixing the tunic on Arthur’s shoulders.

Arthur glances at him, raising an eyebrow. "I meant in a positive manner, Merlin."

"I'm still working here, aren't I?" Merlin says, grabbing the trousers and going down on his knees on the floor.

"And it's a wonder," Arthur says dryly, lifting a leg to get the trouser sleeve on. One done, he lifts the other.

"So it is impressive," Merlin glances up at him, with a smile.

Arthur wavers a little, getting a hand on top of Merlin's head to keep his balance, as Merlin holds the trouser leg open for him. “That’s debatable,” he says, fingers pressing against Merlin’s scalp.

Merlin leans forward a little with the motion, hoping his expression isn’t visible from where Arthur is, as his face is rather close to Arthur’s crotch, but his movements don’t betray him, helping Arthur put on another trouser leg. This has been happening for a while, and he’s got used to this sort of torture.

Arthur’s hold tightens as Merlin glances up, his face warm, and then he’s let go. Merlin gets up on his feet, turning his back as he goes fetch Arthur’s shoes. He can’t really look at Arthur’s expression, not when it’s filled with something Merlin doesn’t understand.

“Well, I doubt you’ll get married now,” Merlin says as he returns to Arthur’s side.

“I hope you’re right,” Arthur says, as Merlin tightens his belt. “I think the king only wants to know what his allies have to offer.”

“I meant that none of the princesses will want to marry you once they know you,” Merlin replies, stepping back, “but that’s good too.”

Arthur looks affronted as Merlin fixes his hair. “Many people know me and wish they could be with me, Merlin.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, sire,” Merlin says.

Arthur gets a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing it a bit too hard as he forces him to turn towards the door. “Then I suppose we’ll see it, won’t we, _Mer_ lin?” he lets go of him with a small push, making Merlin stumble forward a bit. “Come along, I have some ladies to meet, and you some floors to mop.

Merlin knows something’s wrong when he keeps being interrupted during his very important hallway mopping. Usually if someone is to interrupt work they’re ordered by the prince himself, and it’s only to report that he has even more tasks appointed by the royal prat. Only today it hasn’t quite been like that.

“Merlin?”

He looks up from the floor he’d been scrubbing, containing a groan as he sees the footsteps on the path _he’s just cleaned up_. Right next to them is Martha, one of the chambermaids, a blush staining her cheeks almost as red as her hair. “I was wondering,” she continues softly, shyly avoiding his eye, “if you think Prince Arthur would enjoy some poetry?”

Of course it’s this again. “Yeah, I rather think so. But those long ones, you know? Pages and pages will have him swoon.” That should put the trouble aside at least for some hours.

“Pages?” her face turns conflicted, hands twisting together at her apron, “but I can’t write, what will I do?”

Merlin really doesn’t want to have people lining up to declare their love for Arthur, but he also can’t take the sad look on Martha’s face. “Tyr wanted to do something for him too,” he says, “he knows how to write. Maybe you could work together.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Merlin!” Martha says, her eyes suddenly bursting with life. She clasps her hands together under her chin, smiling wide. “I have to find him right away. Bless you!”

She dashes off down the hall with no care for Merlin’s work, nor the work she’s surely missing to write poetry, but at least it leaves Merlin to do his job without having to listen to another of Arthur’s suitors go on and on about his qualities. Emma, the undercook, hadn’t really appreciated when Merlin was unable to hold a laugh at her description of Arthur’s thoughtfulness.

“Boy.”

Merlin sighs. It hasn’t even five minutes since Martha left, he’s not being addressed by his name, and he’s not even finished with redoing the work she ruined.

“What now? Look, he’s a bullying prat, trust me, you don’t want anything to do with Prince Arthur,” her lifts his head to look at her, his eyes widening as he realizes who he’s speaking, “...your highness.”

Princess Eliza looks at him in disapproval, a hand clutching the side of her flowy blue dress in a fist. Well, he’s pretty sure it’s Eliza, but to be honest he hasn’t yet managed to memorize the names of the visiting princesses yet, he had only met them the previous evening. “You shouldn’t speak of my future spouse in such matter.”

“Prince Arthur hasn’t made any arrangement yet,” Merlin says, heart thumping hard in his chest. Arthur had spent his morning with one of the princesses around, surely he wouldn’t have come to a decision so quickly.

“Not yet, no,” she says, raising her chin, as if she wasn’t already looking down on him. “But he will marry me, of course. He’s the one, I can feel it, right here,” she says, hand pressing on her center, right below her breasts.

“Are you sure it’s not indigestion?” Merlin asks, his tone fairly innocent in his opinion, but rushes to add at her infuriated look, “I’m the physician's apprentice.”

She looks at him like she fears for the future of healthcare in Camelot. “I know my heart, boy. You’re clearly dim, but I require your assistance in any case. You will help me woo him.”

“Erm,” Merlin gets up, dragging his hands on his trousers to dry them, “I’d really rather not, thanks.”

“This is not a request!” she steps forward, her green eyes blazing now that he’s at her level of sight, “You will do this or I’ll report to the King you were not hospitable to his royal guests.”

“But I’ve never wooed anyone in my life!” Merlin replies, holding up his hands, “I wouldn’t know how to help!”

“All I need from you at the moment is your knowledge of his likes,” Princess Eliza says, “tell me what he’d enjoy as a gift.”

“What Arthur likes?” Merlin asks, trying to give her an answer that wouldn’t come up like _‘making me work’_ or _‘killing small animals’_. “Frogs! He likes frogs.”

“Frogs,” Princess Eliza repeats slowly, a small frown showing on her face.

“Yes!” Merlin says, with a little bit too much enthusiasm, “Calls them little jumpers! Loves to walk by ponds to watch them.”

She crosses her arms, head tilted down to the side, obviously trying to process this information. “He loves nature, to take care of those hopelessly inferior to him,” her face softens, a smile growing on it, “but of course. Thank you for your help, boy.”

“You’re welcome, your highness,” Merlin says, wondering if he’s going to regret this later.

Eliza nods, no longer listening, and goes off, hand tapping lightly on her face as she thinks of what to do with her new knowledge. When she turns the corner, figuring she won’t be back so soon for him, Merlin starts to drop back on his knees.

“Yes, Merlin,” another female voice draws out, and he turns around to see Princess Talia smirking at him as she comes out of the shadows. “Frogs, you say? That was very useful information. You’ve been most helpful.”

He watches her go away in an opposite direction to Eliza. He sort of hopes that this information will spread around, so people will stop feeling like they need to come to him for advice. And so one day soon Arthur can walk into his room and find dozens of frogs in his bed. The least Merlin can do is try to make the most of this situation.

“Merlin?” he hears someone call him from the end of the hallway, still around the corner, so giving up, Merlin throws the rag on the bucket of water, and grabs it, leaving as quietly as he can before he’s found. There’s something clearly wrong going on.

He knew as soon as he was told that gathering several eligible heirs from nearby kingdoms at Camelot all at once would be a bad idea, but did anyone listen? Gaius said he was being paranoid, and Arthur said he was just jealous of all the attention. Gwen had looked at him with pity, as if she had an idea why the whole thing was actually bothering him, but didn’t say anything supporting either, so she didn’t count. Three female heirs with their parents, all trying to get a firm alliance with Camelot, and no one thought something would go wrong. Merlin hadn’t really counted on everyone in the castle suddenly being in love with Arthur, but honestly it’s not that surprising, is it?

Some sort of spell must be at play. A wider version of what happened with Arthur and Vivian perhaps? Merlin keeps his mind busy with trying to remember the several love spells he had researched on his way down to Gaius’s rooms.

On his way, he runs into Lady Mary, the other visiting Lady, who's looking distressed. There's a somewhat frail look on her, as she stands thin and hunched over, eyes red with tears. Merlin doesn't want to stop, but he can't help but to ask “Is everything alright, my lady?”

“It's none of your business,” she says quickly, blinking quickly as she looks away. But then she lets out, “It's the Prince. He'll never want me, and I wish him to marry me. You wouldn't understand.”

“Right,” Merlin frowns a little, regretting having stopped already.”Well, then, I better be-”

“You're his manservant,” she says, finally looking at him properly, “You _know_ him. You must know if-”

“I'm so busy, my lady, I'm very sorry, I've got to go!” Merlin let's out over her, as he practically runs off.

“Wait, just tell me—” she calls out desperately, but he turns the corner and is out of sight as fast as he can. He’s really not interested in giving out more advice on how to charm Arthur.

He tries to avoid any other suitors on his way, but when he finally reaches his destiny, Merlin is holding up a bouquet of flowers and a small basket filled with fresh fruit, supposedly to be handed over to Arthur. He drops the basket on the wooden bench by Gaius’ working station, and puts the flowers on a vase.

“Gaius?” he calls out, making his way back to the basket and plucking out a grape and popping it into his mouth.

“Merlin!” Gaius comes downstairs from Merlin’s room, “I’ve been looking for you, my boy.”

“Something’s going on with Arthur,” Merlin says, going in his direction to get his spellbook from his bedroom. “Some sort of love spell.”

“He’s being forced to love someone?” Gaius asks, with more feeling than Merlin would expect.

He pauses, and looks at his mentor, “Erm, haven’t checked with him yet. But a lot of people have been asking me how to woo him, saying they’re in love with him.”

“But of course they are,” Gaius says, producing a small smile, “he’s a lovely man.”

“Are you alright, Gaius?” Merlin frowns, hoping this isn’t quite what it looks like.

“Better than ever, my boy,” Gaius says, “love makes me feel young again.”

“Oh, no, Gaius,” Merlin lets out, his shoulders dropping. “Not you too.”

“I know I’m not as young as I used to be, but if you give me a hand, Merlin, I can show Prince Arthur just how much experience that brings—”

“Alright!” Merlin says a bit loudly, desperately needing Gaius to stop talking, “I’m going to see if everything is alright with the pra- prince,” he rephrases himself, not wanting a sermon from Gaius, especially with him in this state, “if you really want to do something good for Arthur, how about researching about love spells? He’d really appreciate it.”

Gaius raises his eyebrow, surprised by the suggestion, but then nods. “Yes, you’re right,” he says, and goes toward one of his manuals.

Merlin takes that as his chance to leave, mentally going over Arthur’s plan for the day to track him down. But the prat isn’t in the training fields, not in the throne room, nor in the gardens as he was supposed to. He inevitably comes across many people interested in Arthur, and he figures that if he was Arthur and wanted to avoid them, he’d probably go hide out in his room. With any luck, he wasn’t abducted by some moonstruck obsessive lunatic who wants to prove their love.

When he finally comes to Arthur’s room, he closes the door behind him right away so no one passing by can ask him for suggestions on the prince. Turning around, his eyes sweep the room without finding him. “Arthur?”

“Alright, Merlin,” Arthur’s voice comes up a moment later, and Merlin turns his head to the dressing screen to see him step out of it slowly, one hand held up in the air as if to stop Merlin from coming closer, the other holding up a boot. Seeing as it wouldn’t be the first time Arthur threw something at him, it’s not as threatening as he’d probably want it to be. “You stay right there.”

“I’m not going to do anything, you prat,” Merlin says, “You figured what’s going on?”

“It’s as if everyone suddenly realized they love me,” Arthur says, frowning at him, slowly giving a step closer. “Geoffrey made a pass at me,” he adds, making a face, “And Sir Leon— I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And you’re not suddenly in love with anyone, are you?” Merlin asks.

“No,” Arthur says, a bit slowly, his frown growing as he finally drops the boot to the ground. “And neither are you, are you, Merlin? Whatever this is, it’s not affecting you. You’re not in love with me.”

Merlin opens his mouth to agree, but the sound stops at his throat. He should be under the spell, shouldn’t he? He’s not, and he knows there are two possibilities for it to be the case, and the last thing he needs is to call attention to either of them. With his heartbeat loud in his chest, constricting it, Merlin licks his bottom lip slowly as he prepares himself for what he’s going to say, his eyes meeting Arthur’s. “Who’s to say I’m not?”

Arthur looks pained, shoulders rising slightly as if to protect himself, and his eyes divert from Merlin’s for a moment. “Be serious, Merlin.”

“I love you,” Merlin says, and he can’t quite believe he’s actually saying it, “I’ve loved you for.... I don’t know how long anymore,” he continues. “That’s why I’m here, why I put up with you.”

“Merlin,” Arthur lets out, his voice croaking a little, before he turns his head to look outside through the window, arms crossing over his chest. He seems to need to gather his thoughts before he speaks. “Shut up.”

But there’s something restless in him, that makes him blurt out “It’s not that surprising, is it? I mean, you must have known—”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up, Merlin?” Arthur interrupts him, voice raising a bit. “Why can’t you ever do as you’re told?”

Merlin looks at him properly, at Arthur, who can’t still meet his eye, whose hands are closed tightly into fists, his stance tense. He’s upsetting Arthur, he realizes, and he suddenly feels ashamed. He’s crushed Arthur’s hopes of having someone who wasn’t under the spell by his side, and the last thing Arthur must want is to hear Merlin declaring his feelings for him.

“ _That_ certainly can’t be surprising,” Merlin replies. “But I won’t mention it.”

“And you’re not going to touch me inappropriately either, are you?” Arthur says, taking a step back.

“Of course not!” Merlin says, “If you don’t want me to—”

Arthur glares at him, his cheeks reddening slightly. “Princess Talia didn’t share that sentiment,” he offers as an explication, after a beat.

Merlin shifts his weight slightly, curious, but not really wanting to know at the same time. “Gaius has some books on love spells, for research,” he offers, “I wanted to make sure you were alright before I went back to it.”

“You think it’s a spell that has has done this to you all,” Arthur says, frowning a bit at him.

“Well, not to me,” Merlin replies, his heartbeat picking up again, “but the others, yes.”

“Then we must track down the sorcerer and make it stop,” Arthur says, “you need to find them.”

“Me?”

“I can’t leave this room without being surrounded by people wanting to touch me, Merlin! You will find the one who isn’t under the spell. Whoever protected themselves must have powers or be the caster,” Arthur orders, and starts to pace around the room, “You’ll report to me anything you find before doing anything. We can’t have you be the brains of the operation.”

“As if we’re better off with you doing the thinking,” Merlin replies.

Arthur frowns at him, giving him a long look. “Are you sure you feel like you love me? You don’t sound different from usual.”

Merlin tilts his head a bit to the side. “Am I supposed to?”

Arthur looks like he’s been made to taste rat meat again, and waves him off. “Nevermind. Go do what I told you.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin nods, moving back towards the door.

“And let my father know why I can’t leave this room,” Arthur adds to his retreating back.

Merlin nods, opening the door, trying to plan his course of action.

“Merlin!” Arthur adds, moving closer, “bring me food, I’m starving!”

 

The thing is, Merlin can’t just tell the king there’s magic at play, not if he wants to avoid someone being burnt alive. So when he finally reaches Uther and gets a moment to explain, it doesn’t go very well.

“My son is ill?” Uther frowns at him. “Send Gaius to him.”

“No!” Merlin lets out. The last thing he needs is Gaius trying to make a move on Arthur. “I can do it, I’ve been trained.”

“If the crown prince is ill,” Uther says, his voice raising slightly, “then he’s to be treated by the court physician, not his dimwitted apprentice.”

“He’s not that ill?” Merlin tries.

“Then he’s well enough to perform his duties,” Uther replies, “send him to me.” He turns back to the advisor by his side, who keeps glancing eagerly at Merlin, probably waiting for the moment he can ask what kind of socks Arthur favours.

“Hum,” Merlin’s thought process goes both too fast and too slow for him to improvise at the moment. “He’s out of clothes!”

Uther turns his head slowly to look at him, frowning. “What?”

“I, uh, I messed up with the last batch, so he has no clothes to wear, that’s why he can’t leave the room.”

The advisor blushes deeply, eyes wide and jaw dropping as he looks at Merlin, and then he starts glancing at the door behind him instead. Maybe claiming that Arthur is naked isn't the best way to do this.

“So you’ve failed to perform the simplest of tasks,” Uther says slowly, stepping so he’s facing him again, his voice turning colder, “and you’ve lied to your king?”

Alright, so claiming Arthur is naked turns out to be an even worse idea than he’d thought. “...Yes? Your highness?”

 

One upside to the love spell going around is that this is the nicest hour spent in the stockings since he first set foot in Camelot. Instead of throwing food at him, people are actually bringing it to him, offering him fruit and water, and request, maybe, something they could do to please the handsome prince?

“Frogs,” Merlin says between mouthfuls of pear, “He loves frogs. He’d love to have some as pets.”

The large downside to the love spell and to Arthur’s master plan, is that the one way for Merlin to know who’s unaffected by the spell is to put himself in harm's way and try to see who doesn’t rush to him and demand a way to the prince. It takes him around one hour of this for him to realize it’s not a very efficient idea, since he’s a bit distracted by the people coming up to him to notice if anyone merely passes by. And he knows this was done by one of the visitors, it has to be, and not all of those know he works so close to Arthur.

It narrows it down, but every heir came with a parent, an advisor and a selection of knights. And there are three ladies. Merlin takes some time getting to the lower tower where they’re all staying in, and moves past any of the ladies’ rooms. Since they’re under the spell, it makes no sense to visit them. He finds nothing odd in their parents rooms, and moves freely to the advisors.

Hidden under a pillow, in the advisor of King Jones’s room, lay several petals of some flower. Melin takes one, placing it carefully in his jacket’s pocket before he moves to peek under the bed. Nothing there. And nothing on the other advisors’ rooms either.

All there is left to check is the rooms the knights are sharing, but that’s in an entirely different part of the castle, and it’s been a couple of hours since he last checked with Arthur, so he makes plans to go there later on. First, he goes to the kitchen, and ends up with a large tray filled to the brim with food, and then makes his way upstairs to Arthur’s rooms.

There are several people crowded in front of Arthur’s door, and three of them seem to be fighting. Merlin tries to bypass them, but can’t pretend not to be relieved when he identifies King William  pulling on Lord Trevor’s hair, as the latter tries to slap him. Alright, so a ridiculous fight over Arthur might turn into an actual war at the hands of people of their power, but at least it crosses them out of the suspects list, so it can’t all be that bad.

“It’s Merlin!” Tyr, the stable boy, grins, rushing to him, Martha coming up to his side, smiling at him. Everyone turns to look, and even the Lords stop their fighting, probably assuming he’s a better target. He hopes not. “Martha and I wrote him poems, like you said we should, we did!” he pushes some sheets of parchment against Merlin’s chest. “Will you give them to our beloved prince? We’ve talked it through, Martha and me, and if Prince Arthur wishes, we wouldn’t force him to chose.”

“That’d be cruel,” Martha says with a nod, “if it’s our joined work that moves him, how can he pick between us?”

“Right, very right!” Tyr says, his light brown eyes bright, “So we’ve decided, you see, it’d be very unfair to him, right? So we wouldn’t mind, having to share his love.”

“If he so chooses,” Martha adds, “we’d be honored. Will you let him know, Merlin?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Merlin says, trying to balance the tray and hold the papers. “Now, hum,” he adds, as he sees everyone coming closer, realizing this could be their chance too, “Prince Arthur is very pleased with your.... courting,” he says, addressing them all, “but if he sees you all at once, he can’t really have time for each of you, will he? So you’ll have to back off— I mean, give me some room to get in and let him know you’re all here, yeah?”

He keeps his eye on them as the give him room to breathe, and knocks on Arthur’s door.

“Merlin?” comes Arthur’s voice, muffled from the other side.

Lord Trevor sighs softly, his posture relaxing. It’s an odd reaction given his sharp face and goatee and generic hard look. The red marking scratches on his cheek, probably courtesy of King William, don’t help either.

“I’ve got you something to eat,” Merlin replies turning to the door again.

The door opens. “Excellent.”

“Prince Arthur!”

“My heart--”

“Lord of my soul, my mind,”

“Beloved, to see your face...!”

Arthur closes a hand on Merlin’s arm, yanking him inside and closing the door quickly behind him. “Merlin, you idiot, there are people out there!”

“There are people everywhere!” Merlin replies, “How was I supposed to make them leave? Would you rather starve?”

“Just put the food on the table and don’t do it again,” Arthur waves him a hand, moving towards it. Arthur sits down at the table as Merlin places the tray on it, and gets right into it.

Merlin holds up the pages of poetry. “Martha and Tyr got you some poems.”

“Who?” Arthur asks, stuffing his mouth with chicken.

“They work in the castle for years. Tyr takes care of your horse.”

“Nevermind that, put it aside,” Arthur orders, “Now tell me what you’ve found.”

Merlin places the papers on the table, close enough for Arthur to reach it if he changes his mind. Knowing him, he’ll probably give in and read it to stroke his ego after Merlin leaves the room. “The only person I’ve seen who isn’t under the spell is your father.”

Arthur looks up to the ceiling, before giving Merlin a tiring look, “Of course not, Merlin, he’s my father. He already loves me.” There’s a tense second of silence, Arthur’s eyes on Merlin, and then he looks down at his plate. He scoops up a slice of cheese on the bread and eats it. “Anything else?” he asks.

Merlin considers telling Arthur that the king and most likely his entire court now assume that the prince is wandering in his bedroom in his underclothes, or naked, but decides that’s the kind of detail that isn’t relevant at the moment.

“Didn’t find anything in the rooms I’ve seen so far,” he says, “King William and Lord Trevor are under the spell too.”

“I knew that part already,” Arthur mutters.

“They were fighting over you in the hallway,” Merlin supplies.

“Great,” Arthur sighs, slumping a bit down the chair, his legs sliding further apart. Merlin looks up to his face quickly. “That’s most likely the intention of the sorcerer.”

“Alright, so who’d want to start a war?” Merlin asks, “who gains from this?”

“Supposedly none, they’re all here because we have no feud and wish for a stronger alliance,” Arthur says, breaking the bread and dragging it on the plate with the meat, to absorb its sauce, “But someone must have second intentions, or we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“And no one is mad at you?” Merlin asks, eyebrows raising.

Arthur throws him a look. “No need to sound so surprised, Merlin,” he says, and goes back to his food, “Some alliances were more recent. We’ve only reconnected recently with King William, and our arrangement with Lord Trevor has been shaky ever since my father’s ban on magic. They have sorcerers,” he explains, before biting on the bread.

“And your father doesn’t mind?”

“The king has no control over his lands,” Arthur says, “and Lord Trevor has a fundamental access to the sea for trade. Camelot can’t afford to dismiss them, so long as they respect our laws when in Camelot.”

“So let’s hope it isn’t them?”

“They use magic,” Arthur points out, “so they’re our most likely suspects.”

Merlin looks away, heart clenching in his chest. He knows, of course, that a sorcerer is needed to cast a spell, and he wishes that this didn’t keep on happening. It’s Uther’s fault, both the attacks on Camelot and Arthur’s thoughtless comments on magic, but everytime it happens, Merlin feels the need to burry further away his desire to share with Arthur what he knows, what he does, who he is. Arthur will never truly know him.

“Right,” he says, “I’ve found some plants in King Jone’s advisor’s room, it could be part of some spell. I’ll have Gaius check it out.”

“Check them both first, then,” Arthur says, “and hurry up, will you? I’m tired of being stuck here with nothing to do.”

Merlin takes it for the dismissal it is, and waves a hand towards the sheets of poems, “Then be glad I’ve brought you some fresh reading material, sire,” he says, walking towards the door. “Not that you need anything more to feed your ego.”

Arthur throws him a look, as if something isn’t right with him. “Are you sure you’re under the spell, Merlin?” he asks again.

Merlin lets out a breath in a puff, heart hammering loud again. He grips the door handle with a hand, making a confused face at Arthur that doesn’t work at all, if Arthur’s frown is anything to go by. “Me? Told you I wasn’t,” he says, “I just...” the words get caught in his throat for a moment, before he makes himself speak, “I can love you _and_ know you’re a prat. Sire.”

Arthur stills, his eyes hesitant as they meet Merlin’s. “No one else seems to do the same.”

“They don’t know you like I do,” Merlin says, his tone far softer than he had intended it to be.

Arthur drops his gaze to the table, and Merlin finally manages to look away, cursing himself. Arthur looks tense again.

“Arthur,” Merlin says, because he can’t really stop himself, making Arthur raise his head to look at him once more, “nothing’s different, it doesn’t change a thing. I know you don’t think of me that way. I’ve told you before, I’m happy to serve you to the day I die.”

Arthur’s face twist as if he had just chewed something sour, and turns his head slightly to the side. “Nothing’s changed,” he says, his tone almost neutral. He meets Merlin’s eye again, “Go back to work. We have to stop this curse fast.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin says, and gets out of the room.

He closes the door on the other side, letting out a sigh, giving himself a moment before he turns around, stepping back, pressed against the door as he sees the suitors are still there, looking at him eagerly.

“So,” he says, eyes sweeping through them and stopping on Martha and Tyr, which stand a little bit too close, “he loved the poems?”

The two servants hug each other, jumping a little, and Tyr lets out an excited laugh. Martha grasps his elbows and pulls back to smile at Merlin. “Bless you, Merlin! What you reckon we should do now?”

“Well,” Merlin says slowly. He feels the weight of everyone’s eyes on him, holding their breaths as he reveals the way to Arthur’s heart. “Prince Arthur is _very_ fond of frogs.”

 

He spends the evening in the knights’ quarters, checking every room and every bed. Among one of Lord Trevor’s knight’s belongings, Merlin finds some runes. He holds them in his hands for some minutes, trying to memorize the symbols before he puts them back in place.

Gaius isn’t in his rooms when Merlin returns. There are several open manuals spread over the workbench, and Merlin hurries to mark the pages and close them when he sees they’re about magic. Gaius probably found something and hurried to go after some solution, but in his eagerness to help Arthur, caused by the spell, he forgot to be careful about his findings. Or so he can hope.

He takes the pile of books to his room, where he reopens them. Each was open on a different kind of enchantment, one of them even a potion. He discards that one, since it’s not a mass spell, and only the kitchen staff has access to Arthur’s food. None of the other spells have anything to do with the petal or the runes he found, and most of them are about a single person targeting another. But that only likely means they haven’t found the right spell yet.

He skims over the manuals, trying to find anything else, but half an hour passes without anything new nor Gaius returning. He looks at the door of his room, leading downstairs with a small frown. Merlin had been hoping to discuss suspects with Gaius, who probably has met some of the visitors before, and know about those who use magic. He drops the books, and sets his mind on finding the older man.

He searches for him around the castle, taking longer than he’d like, delayed by more people trying to reach Arthur. He doesn’t find Gaius, and when he returns to the apothecary, he’s not back, nor there are any signs of him having passed by. Merlin worries for a second, and then assumes that Gaius probably went to the market, or maybe he needs to do some work as a physician. They can’t stop their daily jobs every time there’s a magical emergency, unfortunately.

Seeing it’s been a while since he last checked on Arthur, he passes by the kitchens to get him more food, before making his way upstairs to Arthur’s rooms. The hallway is empty this time, the enchanted people standing before it gone some place else. Merlin doesn’t question his blessings, and knocks on the door.

“Arthur, it’s me!”

There’s silence for a moment, but before Merlin can start to question it, he hears from the other side of the door. “Not now, Merlin, go away.”

“But I’ve got you food,” Merlin says with a frown, holding up the tray. He still has to wait a little before the door is open, Arthur peeking at him, his cheeks slightly flushed, his hair a mess.

“Come, be quick,” Arthur says, ushering him inside. “And I have some work for you.”

“When don’t you—” Merlin stops when he sees who else is in the room. “Gaius.”

Arthur smiles wide, hurrying to Gaius side and letting the older man put an arm around him. “Merlin,” he says, “I need you to inform my father that Gaius and I are to be wedded this evening.”

“What? Oh, no,” Merlin lets out, stepping back, his throat tightening as he sees them smile at each other, and Arthur leaning down a little to press a kiss on Gaius’ white hair, and he has never seen anything as horrifying his entire life. “What did you do?”

“You rudely interrupt us right when it was about to get interesting,” Arthur says, frowning at him.

“Ugh,” Merlin can’t even look at them properly, the image of Gaius’s hand sliding down to Arthur’s ass is the last thing he needs to see. “Uh, Gaius should come with me! The King would appreciate if you.... asked for his hand in person.”

“Merlin, you’re absolutely right,” Arthur comes forward, grabbing him by the shoulders, “it pleases me that you support this. I know you’re close to Gaius, and that you feel in love with me.”

“I… want you to be happy,” Merlin says, barely meeting Arthur’s eye.

Arthur’s voice gentles, “You do, don’t you? Well, hurry up, then.”

“Yes, sire,” he says, stepping back, “Gaius?”

He regrets turning to look at him as soon as he does, because before he can stop anything, Gaius is kissing Arthur and it’s the worst thing he has ever witnessed in his life.

“I’ll return soon,” he says, caressing his cheek.

Arthur leans into the touch, a blush booming on his face. “Hurry back, my heart.”

“The sooner we leave...” Merlin says loudly, and they finally break apart, hands lingering as they let go of each other. He shudders slightly, turning away. That’s the stuff of nightmares as far as he’s concerned.

They leave the room, Gaius looking wishfully over his shoulder as Merlin closes the door forcefully. He turns to his mentor with a frown. “What did you do to him?”

“I came over to tell him how I feel—”

“Gaius,” Merlin says sternly, “there were— there was a love potion instruction open on one of the manuals you left around,” he remembers, things clicking in his head.

“I just want a chance, Merlin,” Gaius changes his tune, “we both know I’m too old for him to consider me on his own, it’s merely a push in the right direction. The effects will fade, and by then he’ll know how good we can be, and he’ll choose me. Don’t you see how this will work for both of us?”

“Gaius, this is _wrong_ ,” Merlin says, “And very disturbing to witness.”

“I know it’s not right,” Gaius says, voice smaller with shame, “but I can’t bear to be without him. Of all people, I thought you’d understand that.”

All his breath leaves him, and Merlin feels cold for a moment. “This isn’t about me,” he says, slowly, “it’s about helping Arthur. You know he doesn’t want all those suitors, and neither should you.”

Gaius’s eyes move back towards the door that keeps him from Arthur, but nods in agreement.

“Back to work, Gaius,” Merlin gets a hand on his shoulder, the other on his arm, guiding his mentor down to their quarters. Gaius goes reluctantly, and Merlin just hopes he’s focused enough not to make things even worse. He can’t stay with Gaius and make sure of it, he has other people to see.

 

“Merlin!” Gwen grins as she opens the door to her home, a hand coming forward to grab Merlin’s wrist and squeeze it kindly, “We were just talking about you!”

“Is that Merlin?” Lancelot’s voice comes from inside the house, smiling as well as he comes up through the door, one hand on Gwen’s hip, the other on the doorframe as he looks happily at Merlin. “It’s good to see you, my friend.”

Merlin hesitates as he sees them together, not sure if what he’s doing is a good idea. But it’s his only idea to fix part of the problem, and the only one he knows for sure it would work. Not that it made him happy to suggest such thing to the couple.

"I need a favour," he says.

"Anything, my friend," Lancelot says, quickly prompted.

"Well, not anything," Gwen gives Lancelot a look, before turning to Merlin with a slight turn of her eyebrows, but her face clear of any distrust, "But go ahead."

"I need you to kiss Arthur," Merlin says.

"Merlin!" Gwen lets out, her cheeks darkening with a blush, and her hands come up, one to her mouth, the other to her chest.

"Does Arthur want her to kiss him?" Lancelot asks, with a small frown.

"He'd be very thankful for it," Merlin nods quickly. So what if at the moment he only wants to kiss Gaius of all people, Merlin knows he'd rather get a kiss from Gwen to get rid of it.

Gwen and Lancelot look at each other, probably trying to read the other's face to see what they think of it.

"It's funny," Lancelot says, slowly looking at Merlin again, sounding amused, "we were just discussing something like it. I've never considered sharing my heart with another but Gwen, but today we've realized that if Prince Arthur wished for one of us, or both of us, we'd be very glad."

Gwen grabs Lancelot's hand, giving it a squeeze, and they share a smile, faces lighting up. "Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful?"

Merlin really doesn't understand what is it with people wishing to share Arthur between them. He knows if he had the chance... Well. He doesn't, he won't, and even if there was a possibility, Arthur does have to get married. To a rich lady of status with political power, ideally, and neither Uther or the kingdom would settle for a clumsy male servant. Reaching some sort of agreement with Arthur and his possible wife would be the only way to go. Not that Merlin has actively thought about any of such possible scenarios.

"You'd all look great together," Merlin says, because they would, Arthur, Gwen and Lancelot would all look stupidly pretty as a unit, and be ridiculously happy, all very true and moral and bright, and with no illegal secrets, and Merlin doesn't want to think about that anymore. "Let's go?"

"Right now?" Gwen frowns, her free hand touching one of the curls of her hair, loose from the lace tying it together behind her neck. "I'm not dressed to be seen at the castle--"

"Nonsense!" Merlin lets out, taking her by the elbow with both hands,  "come on, he's so looking forward to see you!" He pauses, and then adds,  “Well, I’ve got to warn you, Arthur may say he doesn’t want to do it.”

They both frown, and Gwen speaks, “You’ve told us he’d appreciate it.”

“And he does!” Merlin’s quick to say, “he will! But he doesn’t know it quite yet.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Gwen says, “it wouldn’t be correct to kiss if he doesn’t wish for it.”

Lancelot nods absently in agreement, but his eyes are on Merlin as he seems to reach a conclusion. “Did something happen to the Prince?”

Merlin hesitates for a moment, with a quick glance at Gwen, unsure of how much he can reveal. “He’s under a spell, and he needs true love’s kiss to fix it.”

“True love!” Gwen lets out, and she turns to share an excited look with Lancelot. “Are you sure?”

“It’s worked before,” Merlin says, burying down his bitterness at the thought.

“We can do this,” Lancelot says.

Gwen nods, and turns to Merlin again. “Let’s go, then.”

 

Arthur is thankfully alone when they go in, pacing around the room, arms crossed behind his back, and stops once he sees them, eyes sweeping over them and frowning when he doesn’t see what he wants. “Where’s Gaius?”

“Gaius?” both Gwen and Lancelot share a startled look, frowning in confusion.

“He should be here, Merlin,” Arthur advances on them, “what did the king say? We have his blessing, surely.”

“He said...” Merlin starts off, cursing himself for forgetting what Arthur thinks is happening at the moment, “he said he would, after some trials.”

“Trials?” Arthur frowns, “that doesn’t sound right.”

“The King needs you to prove his love for Gaius,” Merlin says, and moves to get between Lancelot and Gwen, hands on her back to push her forward, “by kissing Gwen. If you don’t feel a thing, you’ll prove your love for him.”

Arthur crosses his arms, and seems to think it over. If the way he sighs, head tilting up for a moment as he lets his arms drop back to his sides mean anything, is that he probably found the whole thing annoyingly reasonable somehow. The one good thing about the spell is that it seems to turn people very agreeable, which in turn makes handing the spell a little easier.

Gwen steps a little closer, hesitant. Merlin stays by Lancelot’s side, watching as Gwen presses the tip of her tongue against her lip in anticipation, then seems to catch herself at it, blushing and glancing quickly at Lancelot.

Arthur, on the other hand, looks rather put out by the whole thing as he closes the distance between them, as if it was a dull chore to lean down and kiss a beautiful woman like Gwen.

It does look like a rather dull kiss, a dry press of lips that didn’t last enough for Merlin to look away.

“There,” Arthur says as he stands straight again. “Now bring me Gaius.”

“We’re not done yet, sire,” Lancelot speaks up, “You must kiss me too.”

“What?” Merlin blurts out, turning wide eyed at him.

“Gwen loves Arthur, but she loves me too,” Lance look explains quietly, leaning closer, “and I them both. Maybe Arthur’s true love is the both of us now.”

And sure, why not. Merlin had been bracing himself and preparing for the idea of Arthur loving Gwen, even before Lancelot came back to stay, so why not have to adapt to now the prince loving both of Merlin’s best friends? All that’d be missing now would be Gaius, and look how that turned out already.

“Yes, yes, Lancelot too,” Merlin confirms it.

“Just get on with it, then,” Arthur says, motioning for him to come closer.

Lancelot does, and places a hand on Arthur’s neck, thumb resting against his jaw. He leans in to give Arthur a chaste, yet tender kiss. He pulls back slowly, stepping back to stand with Merlin and Gwen again. The three of them look at Arthur for his reaction.

Arthur just crosses his arms again. “Anything else?”

“No, no,” Merlin says, grabbing a hold of Lancelot’s arm, avoiding his heartbroken face, and tugs him backwards.

“Then bring me Gaius.”

“We’ll go, uh, call him,” Merlin says, and takes his friends outside the room again, closing the door firmly behind them.

“Lancelot!” Gwen’s voice wavers as she rushes to his arms, pressing her cheek against his chest and holding him close. “He doesn’t love us.”

Lancelot holds her back tightly, burying his face on her hair. “I know.”

“And the curse isn’t broken,” Merlin sighs, looking away from them. He should probably give them a moment, but it’s the third time he had to see Arthur kiss someone today alone, all different people, and it’s not like _he_ goes around sobbing because Arthur doesn’t love him.

Right now there are more important things to focus on. Gwen’s kiss should have worked, like it had before when it was about Princess Vivian. Maybe true love wasn’t as much of a fixed thing as Merlin had thought, maybe it shifts on potential. When Arthur was last under a love spell, he and Gwen had feelings for each other, were walking towards the same path, and had they followed it, Gwen would still be his true love. Lancelot’s return, his work at the forge with Gwen, teaching peasants how to use a sword, had changed Gwen’s path, and, at least for now, the potential to be Arthur’s true love was gone.

Lancelot had made a good guess. After all, he and Gwen love each other, and maybe some part of Gwen still loves Arthur like she used to. It’s hard to tell with the spell, and it’s a subject Merlin would rather avoid at all costs.

Not to say that Merlin’s all that put out about neither of them being Arthur’s true love, but for now it means Merlin still has to find another way to break Gaius’s spell.

“What do we do now?” Lancelot asks, lifting his head from Gwen’s hair.

“I need someone to keep Gaius busy, away from Arthur,” he says, looking at them again, “Gwen?”

She nods, stepping out of Lancelot’s hold and subtly dragging a finger under her eye, blinking away the moist. “I can do that.”

He hates having to put her aside, but he adds anyway, “Before he finds some excuse to come up here again. I’d rather not interrupt them snogging again.”

Gwen brings her hand to her chest, making a disgruntled face, and nods, rushing down the hallway. At least she only pictured it, Gwen didn’t have to see it for herself.

Lancelot watches her go, and turns to Merlin. “...That’s not it, is it? Why would Gaius even do this?”

“There might be a spell making everyone feel like they love Arthur when they don’t really feel that way?” Merlin explains, his shoulders coming up to his ears, “I don’t know who cast it, and—”

“You’re saying,” Lancelot interrupts, a frown marking his face, his voice serious, “that my feelings for him aren’t real?”

“Yeah,” Merlin says, looking away for a moment, “unless you’ve liked him before and never told me.”

“I feel like I’ve always loved him,” Lancelot says, voice almost feverish as he closes his hands, “with every fiber of my being, from the moment I first saw him, Merlin. It feels as real as my love for Gwen, as everlasting, and you tell me...”

“Sorry,” Merlin touches his arm, “I’m trying to fix it.”

“It feels right, true to my soul,” Lancelot shakes his head, “but I trust you, my friend. What do you need me to do?”

Merlin squeezes his arm, touched, and relieved to see that are some things even this spell can’t change. It’s groundbreaking to have such loyalty and trust put on himself, especially when he can be honest about every part of himself.

He fills Lancelot in on his investigation so far, of who he suspects, who Arthur is sure is guilty. “Can you help me find out who did it? I need to break Arthur’s spell before he tries to elope Gaius in secrecy.”

 

Thankfully it’s getting dark when he gets outside, so sneaking out of the castle isn’t as much of an issue as it was during the day. Unfortunately, as he makes his way through the woods for a clearing, he comes across far too many people, most whispering loudly as they push each other out of the way, bags and nets in hands as they all wander around.

He hides in some bushes, diving in as he spots Lady Mary rushing by holding something tightly in her arms. Probably a frog that’s trying to slip away, and he doesn’t envy either her or the poor creature. He stumbles on his feet as he leaves the bushes after she’s out of sight, and lands right against Princess Eliza, who was crouched unseen next to them.

“ _Boy_ ” she sneers at him, “be careful where you step on, you’ll ruin my work.”

“Sorry,” he whispers, noticing that in front of her is a trap of some sort. “What’s all this?”

“I’m gracing the prince with a frog tomorrow,” she says, “now be quiet.” she turns to him, a calculating look in her eye, “Go lure a frog into my trap.”

“I’ve got to go,” Merlin motions with his hands in a random direction, “I can’t stay and—”

“What are you so busy with at this time of the night in the middle of the woods?” she asks, her brows furrowing, “It’s highly suspicious. Are you collecting these filthy creatures for someone else to present to the prince? I can’t have that,” she leans closer, a glint in her eye making him stay as a still as possible, “You will help me, or I’ll let my father know that Camelot’s staff is showing favoritism in these negotiations.”

“But if I help you, won’t we be favoring you?” Merlin replies.

“You’re right,” she says, sounding surprised, as if coming to that conclusion was more than she’d expect of him, “then you shall do it or I’ll yell and accuse you of kidnapping me into the woods at night.”

As they _are_ in the woods at night, he doesn’t see how to talk his way out of that one, and ends up losing half an hour, his trousers soaked to the knees as he chases a frog around, cornering it into the trap.

She lets him go after that, and Merlin tries to be more careful from then on. His dripping boots squish at every step.

“You better be right about that pond,” King Jones hisses to his squire, a few feet to Merlin’s left as he moves deeper into the woods. “It is of the essence we find frogs for the prince.”

Merlin takes a detour to the right, cursing himself for the joke. How come making one (or two, or ten, really) comments on frogs can get everyone out at night hunting for them? If Gaius wasn’t under the spell he’d make some comment regarding Merlin’s ideas. He can clearly picture the judgemental eyebrow.

 

“What’s troubling you this time, young warlock?” Kilgharrah asks when he arrives at the small clearing Merlin summons him to. His voice booms a little, but Merlin had made sure to pick a spot far away from wandering people and ponds.

He gets on to explain again what’s happened so far, pausing once in a while when the dragon interrupts him to laugh, neck curling upwards as he cackles into the sky. At least someone is enjoying this.

“I haven’t seen a spell quite like this in years,” the dragon says, sounding far too pleased.

“But you’ve seen it before?” Merlin asks, hopeful, taking a step closer.

“Perhaps. Have you not?”

“I think I’d notice if I had,” Merlin replies.

“A love spell is what it is,” Kilgharrah says, spreading his wings, “you know the answer to this one already.”

“But Gwen’s kiss didn’t work!” Merlin raises his hands, trying to keep him from going, “And what about Gaius?”

“It seems to me, young warlock, once you find the culprit, Gaius himself will undo what he’s done to your prince.”

“Well, yeah,” Merlin throws out his hands, “and how do I do that?”

“You know everything you need to answer your question,” the dragon says, and swings his wings. Merlin steps back, regaining his balance from the wind blown at him with the gesture. When he looks up again, Kilgharrah is up in the sky and his trousers are starting to freeze.

He’s tempted to call the dragon back with his powers, and order him to not be cryptic for once, but he doesn’t know which part of Kilgharrah’s nature would win that battle. He doesn’t know why he expected a clearer answer in any case, the dragon hasn’t been all that helpful for a long time.

And he did try to burn Camelot down that one time, so Merlin isn’t all that sure that he even wants to help them all that much.

He sighs, not looking forward to another research session, eyes up in the sky and watching Kilgharrah go out of sight, until he’s a shadow hiding out the stars from view.

 

“Good morning, sire!” Merlin lets out loudly as he pushes the door open with a shoulder, hands busy holding up a tray.

“You’re late,” comes from the bed, Arthur’s voice cranky and lacking patience. Nothing really new in their morning routine, but one would think that the love spell could at least keep Arthur in a good mood, especially seeing Merlin’s delay was caused by a night spend researching spells for him.

“It’s not like you’ve got anywhere to be tod—” He stops as he turns around, finally getting a look at the room.

_Croak._

“Apparently,” Arthur’s voice is heavy with the threat of violence, “someone in my confidence has spread the rumour that I happen to be incredibly fond of _frogs_.”

Merlin doesn’t move for a moment, tray in hand, pulled against his chest, as he faces the numerous frogs filling in the room. He didn’t even know the forest surrounding the castle had that many frogs, much less that they could all be gathered in Arthur’s room in one night. He’s a bit impressed.

“Ah,” he says, carefully moving across the room, his steps wide so he lands his feet on frog free sections of the floor, “what an odd idea.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know who did such thing, would you, _Mer_ lin?”

“Me? No, not at all, sire—”

“Merlin.”

“Maybe someone heard me call you a toad faced prat?”

Arthur looks like he wants to wrangle him, but he’s interrupted by a frog jumping into the bed. Arthur exhales deeply through his nose, and tugs on his sheets until the frog jumps back to the floor.

“Merlin,” he says again, sounding forcibly calmer, “I know you think you love me, and perhaps thought this was a good way to sabotage your competition…”

“That’s not—”

“But you know what you didn’t count on?” Arthur meets his eyes again.

“What?”

“ _Someone_ has to take these blasted frogs back to wherever on earth they came from, and I’m not leaving this room.”

That’s.... something Merlin hadn’t thought of. His idea hadn’t really gone beyond picturing Arthur’s face when he found his room filled with frogs, and due to his delay he’s even missed that moment.

“Yes, sire,” he says, putting down the breakfast tray in Arthur’s table. “Right after we stop the curse.”

“ _Now_ , Merlin.”

“But isn’t it more important to break the curse so you can meet the king and marry Gaius?”

Arthur frowns, troubled, and glares down at a close spot on the floor, where several frogs are gathered together. “Take some on your way out.”

It takes Merlin ten minutes to get a couple of frogs in his arms, wincing at their cold, textured skin, as they slip and try to jump out of his hold.

“Inform my father about the spell,” Arthur tells him as Merlin is stepping out of the room.

He stops, and glances at him over his shoulder. “The King?”

“Of course, the king, Merlin!” Arthur says, “this has gone for long enough without his knowledge. He needs to understand why I can’t perform my duties today as well.”

“...I understand, sire,” Merlin leaves the room, shutting it with a foot. Arthur didn’t really give him a deadline on that one, he has frogs trying to jump out of his arms and a spell to break, so maybe everything can be solved before he has the time to inform the king it’s time for a witch hunt that will end with death.

 

“She’s a bit nervous,” Lancelot says, as he takes Merlin down the hallway, to where he claims to have found something important. They’re in the guests’ wing, and Lancelot stops them by one of the doors Merlin hadn’t inspected when he snooped around the day before.

He hadn’t been the one to assign the rooms to princesses, so he doesn’t know which one is behind the door Lancelot knocks on.

“Come in,” a shaky voice announces, and Lancelot opens the door to reveal the lady’s bedroom.

Lady Mary, Lord Trevor’s daughter, is sitting on a stool by the window, hands closed tightly on her lap as she looks at them with dread. She’s obviously troubled, a few strands of hair falling from her hairdo, eyes puffy, nose and cheeks blotched with red. Merlin looks at her for a moment before pulling two chairs from the dining table closer to her, figuring this will take a while.

“This is Merlin,” Lancelot introduces him as they sit down, his voice gentle.

“Prince Arthur’s manservant, yes,” she says, eyes sliding from one to the other. “We’ve met.”

“Could you tell us now what you meant? Merlin will fix everything, trust me.”

“How can a manservant fix this?” she asks, her voice wavering. She closes her mouth tightly, to stop it from trembling, and blinks fast.

Merlin’s a bit lost.

“I’ve told you earlier, remember?” Lancelot reminds her kindly, “This sort of thing happens more often than you’d think, and Merlin always comes through.” He says it with such certainty that Merlin, still not knowing exactly where this is going, nods in agreement.

She gives them a long look, and then seems to come to a decision, her stance a little straighter as she starts talking, her eyes sliding away towards the window.

“I must get married,” she says, “there’s a— a suitor, back at home. My father favours him for his money, his connections. He has little land, but a growing commerce, especially overseas. He’s also a brute,” she adds, her fists closing tightly on her lap, “he has.... rages and it’s—- it’s rather unpleasant.”

She thanks Lancelot quietly as he hands her a handkerchief, dabbing it quickly underneath her eyes.

“Prince Arthur is fair and just, and a prosper my father would overlook Lord Daniel for.”

“Being a prince does that,” Merlin says, trying to understand what’s happening here.

“He is,” Lancelot agrees quickly, smiling. “He’s.... he’s inspiring. I’d follow him to death itself.” His smile turns softer, cheeks reddening as he dips his chin, “And he’s so handsome.”

All fair points, but none Merlin wanted to hear coming from his friend. Lady Mary looks as uncomfortable by the comment as Merlin does.

“I didn’t mean for the spell to work this way,” she says in a rush, voice wavering slightly, eyes getting redder, “I just couldn’t take any chances, not when he has so many options right here. If Arthur loved me, even if only until he made his choice—”

“You did this,” Merlin gets up, “you made everyone—”

“Something went wrong!” she says quickly, tears now leaking from her eyes, “I only meant to make him love _me_ , the spell didn’t work!”

“Why try at all? You still had a week to make him choose you by himself—”

“I have magic!” her voice shakes, as she sobs, rubbing her cheeks dry with Lancelot’s handkerchief, “you know this kingdom, you know _him_ , Prince Arthur would never choose someone like me!”

Merlin slumps back down to the chair, his heart thumping loudly in his chest as if it didn’t enough space to move. His mouth closes tightly, and he turns his face away, trying to gather his thoughts.

Lancelot’s hand rests on his shoulder for a moment, before he turns to the lady again. “Then why would you wish to stay here of all places?” he asks her gently.

“It’s still safer than marrying Lord Daniel, “ she says, visibly trying to stop crying, “and maybe with time I could... I could show him how wonderful magic can be, we could change this kingdom.”

“You could never do that,” Lancelot says, his words hitting Merlin rather harshly, even when he keeps speaking gently, “not if it all started using magic to control him.”

Merlin nods in agreement, hardening his look towards her. She can cry all she wants, but it doesn’t fix what she tried to do.

She still bursts into tears. “Oh, what will I do now? I don’t know how to fix this, and I can’t go back and marry Lord Daniel! Oh, what if the king finds out? He’ll have me dead!”

“One thing at the time,” Merlin says, eyes darting a bit, “I’m not sure if the king even know there’s a spell. People have been too scared to ask him directly for anything about courting his son. If we undo this fast enough, maybe he won’t know,” he adds, because what she did was wrong, but she doesn’t deserve to die for it. He wouldn't want to marry someone like that Lord Daniel either. "And afterwards we'll help with your issue."

Lady Mary visibly calms down, still dabbing at her eyes as she listens. She takes in a  shuddering breath, and then moves towards the bed, pulling a large book from beneath it. “The spell, it came from here,” she says, handing it over to Merlin, “the counter spell is here too, but I haven't got it to work.”

Merlin opens the book, the pages folding open easily to the correct page. He reads the spell, not surprised to see it's one he didn't have any record on. It's no wonder no counter spell he tried has worked yet.

“You followed the instructions correctly?”

“Yes,” she says, but then she adds, “well, I may have sneezed during the incantation. The smoke from the burning rosemary got to my face.”

“Have you tried sneezing while casting the counter spell?”

She gives him a very unamused look, and turns to Lancelot, hoping for an explanation.

His friend smiles lightly, “Merlin’s trying to ease the mood.”

Merlin reads the counter spell, and then pronounces it clearly, feeling the magic flow through him, outwards.

“Oh,” Lady Mary lets out, surprised, “I see. Did it work?”

They both turn to Lancelot.

“I love him,” Lancelot says, and his stance shits, shoulders back, head higher, “but perhaps the spell hasn't changed my feelings because they were already there, and this is truly how I feel about the Prince.”

Merlin sighs, closing the manual and handing it back to Lady Mary, “Keep trying to break the spell. I’ll be back in a while. Lancelot, will you help her?”

“Of course,” Lancelot nods, “we’ll fix this.”

“In that case,” Merlin gets up, “I must take care of Gaius, while we can’t solve this.”

He gives Lady Mary a long look, not sure if he wants to reassure or reproach her, and ends up leaving without doing either.

 

“You better not be lying to me about this,” Merlin warns Gaius as they reach the door to Arthur’s room, stopping to frown at him.

“I would never,” Gaius says a little bit too passionately for it to be believable. “I do need to be in close proximity to him, Merlin, or the counter spell won’t latch onto him and undo the damage.”

“That sounds just like an excuse to be close to him,” Merlin says, grabbing the door handle, “no weird touching, or I’m sending you away.”

“There’s no need to worry, Merlin,” Gaius says. His smile isn’t very reassuring.

Very worried about it, Merlin opens the door.

“My love!” Arthur rushes to them as he sees them stepping into the room, somehow avoiding stepping over any of the lingering frogs.

“My prince,” Gaius replies, voice shaking with need. It’s horrible.

“My heart couldn’t take another second without— Merlin, move out of the way,” Arthur says harshly, as Merlin takes a step to keep himself between the two of them.

They sort of dance for a moment, Arthur moving from side to side to try to reach Gaius, and Merlin matching his steps to make sure he doesn’t, until Arthur plants a hand on his face and shoves him away, giving a long stride towards Gaius.

They can’t just have Gaius say the spell with Arthur staring lovingly into his eyes, because Arthur would find out about Gaius’s magic, and Gaius most likely wouldn’t be able to go through with it in the first place. But it’s not exactly easy to pull Arthur away from him when they’re both under love spells.

With his hear pounding in his chest, Merlin reaches a hand towards Arthur’s back, his eyes slipping into gold for a second as he performs a silent spell, hoping that will be enough to buy Gaius some time.

Arthur trips on his now unlaced boots, stumbling forward. He stops to glare at Merlin, as if he could guess it was his fault. He can’t, or he’d be sending him to be locked up immediately, but it wouldn’t really be past Arthur to make up some ridiculous reason for why Merlin’s to blame for it anyway.

“Merlin,” he turns to face him fully, his back to Gaius, “my boots.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin says, going to kneel before him to take as much time as possible tying them up.

Gaius starts muttering softly, Merlin can only tell because he glances at his heartbroken face from where he is. Good, because they need to go through this before Arthur notices anything.

“When’s the wedding?” Arthur asks.

“The wedding? Uh,” Merlin tries to think of an answer, lowering his eyes to the knot he’s making. It keeps slipping his mind Arthur believes that Uther would actually approve of this union. “The king hasn’t set a date yet. He said.... He said you must wait for the guest to leave. It would be an insult to them to bring them over just to witness you marry someone else the very next day.”

“You need to go back to him,” Arthur demands, “you need to propose.... Yes, tell him that the wedding would stop the spell. Once the spellcaster sees I’m married, everyone being in love with me will no longer achieve anything, and they’ll break the spell.”

“But before that they might get so jealous of Gaius that it will put him in danger,” he says, his eyes on the frog that jumped over, croaking against Arthur’s boot.

“Nonsense, one would merely have to gaze upon his beauty to—” he stops mid sentence, wavering a little on his feet, face vacant for a moment. “Why would— Gaius?”

“Yes, sire?” comes his weary voice, finally finished with the spell. Merlin looks between them, scooping up the frog and getting up slowly.

“I can’t marry Gaius!” Arthur lets out, stepping away from them both, only to land heavily on a chair as soon as he reaches it, “That isn’t— I’m sorry, Gaius, but you understand—”

“Of course,” Gaius says, sounding so fourlon that Merlin almost feels sorry for him. “If you require nothing else from us, my lord, we’ll be off to work on finding the culprits of these spells.”

“I’... yes, of course,” Arthur looks sick, and barely tries to meet their eyes. “You’re dismissed.”

Gaius gives a small bow, moving quickly to the door. Merlin hesitates, glancing at Arthur. “Your father doesn’t really know about any of this,” he informs him quickly.

“Good,” Arthur says, hand rubbing over his mouth muffling slightly his voice, “make sure he doesn’t.”

“Yes, sire.” Merlin says, and goes after Gaius, closing the door behind him.

“Well,” Gaius says, his voice oddly light, “that’s one problem gone.” He touches under his eyelids with his fingertips, eyes gazing up, and Merlin disapproves everything he’s done, but he can’t really take a sad Gaius and be unmoved.

He puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer, and leads him off. “It will be alright, Gaius. We just have to keep working on this, for Arthur.”

“For Arthur,” Gaius agrees softly, leaning slightly on him as they leave.

 

“I came to feed the frogs,” Merlin calls as he comes into Arthur’s room again. He left Gaius with Lancelot, Gwen and Lady Mary to work on the spell, and went off when he realized that he should have been feeding Arthur some time prior.

“Very funny, Merlin,” Arthur says, moving to the table, “hurry up, you should have been here hours ago.”

“We’ve been busy trying to fix the spell,” Merlins says, crouching down next to a bunch of the frogs and putting down a bowl with water. He doesn’t really know what else to give them, but the poor ugly things should have something while he doesn’t have the time to put them back outside.

“Gaius can probably do better without you there distracting him,” Arthur says, sitting down.

Merlin goes to him and puts down the tray in front of him on the table. He stops as he was about to step back, when Arthur kicks the chair on his left with a foot.

“Sit down,” he says, as he starts to eat, sending Merlin an impatient look when he’s not obeyed immediately.

“So, Gaius, uh?” Merlin asks, sitting down.

Arthur glares at him, “One would think you’d be upset by it, seeing as you think you love me.”

“I do love you,” Merlin says, and he’s surprised with how it gets easier it is to say each time he does it. Well, it helps that Arthur doesn’t really believe him, but still. “It was terrible to witness even a second of it, so why shouldn’t I try to get the most of it now?”

Arthur sighs, and pushes the plate closer to him, so it’s right between the two of them, “Stop saying nonsense and eat some of this to make sure it’s not poisoned.”

“But you’ve started eating already.” Merlin reaches over, grabbing a cut of sausage.

“Then if it’s poisoned at least I’m not dying alone.”

“Very thoughtful, sire.”

“I’ll need a manservant in the afterlife.”

“And you’d pick me? And here I thought I was the worst manservant that ever was.”

“Yes, well, at least you provide entertainment,” Arthur says, “Why should I have some dull servant, when I can have you complain about your duties for all eternity? No, I think I’ve chosen well. Try the chicken, it has a funny taste.”

Merlin looks at him for a moment, heart swelling in his chest, and then reaches for the chicken, tasting it. “Seems fine to me.”

“Yes, but you have no refined taste, do you?” Arthur replies.

“I certainly don’t,” Merlin says in stride, “seeing as I do like _you_.”

Arthur’s blush, as slight as it is, is rather endearing. A splash is heard as a frog jumps into the water bowl. Merlin takes the chance, while Arthur glances at it, to steal a bit more of the sausage.

“I’d say that was the exception to your exceedingly bad taste, but as it’s not really you but a spell—”

He’s interrupted as the door to his chambers open. They both turn to look at it in surprise, and get up at once as Gwen comes in.

“Sire,” she dips a little, her face red, but she doesn’t look enamoured as she had before, “I’ve come to collect the....some of the frogs.” Gwen glances around the room, and waits for Arthur’s slow, distrustful nod to crouch down and grab a hold of three of them. She rises up again and goes back towards the door, hesitating before she turns around again, the frogs held tightly against her body.

“Arthur,” she says carefully, still blushing deeply and unable to meet the prince’s face, her eyes darting quickly to Merlin and then back to the frogs in her arms, “what Lancelot and I did, it’s not— it won’t happen again. We don’t want you to think that we’re interested— not to say you’re not interesting, but Lancelot doesn’t.... And _I_ , I don’t, anymore, I mean,” she lets out, in a quick, stumbling pace that reminds Merlin of how she spoke to him sometimes back when they first met. “You’re very fine, just not.... Just not for us. In fact,” she adds, her tone surer now, “you wouldn’t have to look very far to find someone far more appropriate.”

Her eyes land on Merlin again, before shifting just a little to look at Arthur instead.

“Alright....” Arthur says slowly.

“Good. That’s all, my lord,” Gwen dips again, turns to the door, and does an odd maneuver to close it behind her without losing any of the frogs.

Both Merlin and Arthur stare at the door for a long moment, before Arthur turns to face him. “Is the spell broken?

Merlin hesitates, slowly looking away from the door to his prince. “Sire?”

“Are you still in love with me?” Arthur asks, slowly walking around the table, to him.

“....uh....yes? No? Maybe? Can I just go check—”

“ _Merlin_ .” Arthur stops him, as he comes closer, “It’s a yes or no question. You knew the answer to that just a moment ago, unless—” his eyes widen as he looks at him. “You _lied_ to me! You were never under the spell!”

“I— well, I told you I wasn’t!” Merlin lets out, regretting it right away.

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur says as he moves closer, and there’s something akin to a predator look in his eye, reminding Merlin of tiresome days in the woods. He’s never envied the poor animals that Arthur slaughtered for fun, and this is definitely not helping.

He steps back for each step Arthur takes closer to him, until his back is against the wall. “You know, maybe _Gwen_ was the one who cast the spell, and that’s why—”

“You know,” Arthur copies him, making a face for a moment, a hand resting on the wall beside Merlin’s head, “I thought perhaps having magic could stop someone from being under the spell, but Gaius fell under it anyway.” His face comes up close, his nose brushes on Merlin’s, and he suddenly realizes what’s about to happen, as his warm breath pushes against Merlin’s lips. Now forest animals probably envy _him._ “So the reason you’re unaffected is you’re in love with me.”

It’d be easy now, for him to close the increasingly small distance between them, and he wants it, he feels the need burning inside him, but he can’t help but recall Lady Mary’s words. If he lets this happen, it wouldn’t last, and it wouldn’t end well. It wouldn’t be right.

“What if.... What if it was both?” he lets out, the words practically spoken against Arthur’s mouth. His voice wasn’t as light as he had hoped, and now his heart is pounding for a completely different reason.

Arthur pulls back just enough to look at him wide eyed, and there’s a terrible moment where they’re both silent, and Merlin can’t handle it, can’t understand what he sees in Arthur’s face.

Much less when he breaks into a grin.

“Oh, so we’re talking about that now?” Arthur asks. “Both is good,” he says, leaning in.

Merlin places a hand over Arthur’s mouth, stopping him from coming any closer. “ _What_?”

Arthur gives him an exasperated look and shoves his hand off. “Merlin, must we really speak of it right now?”

“Of _what_?” Merlin asks again, his voice getting higher.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Are we really going to pretend you don’t have magic right after you brought it up?”

Merlin feels himself going cold all over, the wall firmer against his back. He can’t move away. “You— you _know_?”

“Of course I know!” Arthur steps back himself this time, and frowns at him. “We— you thought I didn’t?”

“You never said you _knew!_ ”

“I thought we _both knew_ not to speak of it because my father is the _king and I can’t know_ —”

“That’s stupid! I’d say something!” Merlins lets out, his arms flaying.

“You keep doing magic in front of me, did you think I was _blind_ ?” Arthur shoots back. “Don’t tell me that’s how you _actually_ keep it a secret, Merlin! How have you not been caught yet?”

“I— I’m very good at it! Haven’t burnt in the pyre yet, have I?”

“No, but that’s because _I_ knew!” Arthur says, his voice raising to match Merlin’s. “I’ve been making excuses for your reckless behaviour!”

“It’s not— I’m very careful!” Merlin replies, stepping forward.

“You do magic in front of my knights! _You’ve done it in front of my father!_ You told him you’re a _sorcerer_!”

“I had to— you knew it _then_? How long have you known?”

“Oh, I don’t know, _Merl_ in,” Arthur asks, voice dripping with sarcasm, “how long have you been doing magic _right in front of me_?”

Part of him wants to brisk up at Arthur’s tone, but Merlin feels himself deflate, “And you.... You didn’t turn me in?”

“You haven’t burnt in the pyre yet, have you?” Arthur shoots back at him, but his tone is slightly less offended.

“So you don’t think I’m evil?” Merlin asks.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin,” Arthur says as he crosses his arms, “you’re a fumbling, dimwitted fool, you don’t have the brains for evil.”

“I.... thanks?” Merlin replies, unsure if he should be insulted or flattered.

“If you wanted to have me killed, you’d have done it ages ago, you clearly had enough chances,” Arthur adds, his tone turning slightly more serious, “instead you’re a stupidly brave idiot who keeps doing magic to protect my kingdom.”

“Yeah, well, I sort of live in it,” Merlin says, moving closer. “And I.... you know.”

Arthur uncrosses his arms. “Love me? Yes, you’ve told me so a few times lately.”

Merlin feels his face burning. Maybe he didn’t _need_ to have said it that much. Or often. Or at all. “Don’t let it get to your head,” he says quickly, and then adds, before Arthur can reply, “And do you?”

“Do I what?”

“What do you think, you ass?” Merlin asks, “ Do you love me?”

“What makes you think that?” Arthur replies, raising his eyebrows, but he’s moving closer.

“You did just try to kiss me,” Merlin points out. A frog croaks very close by, but Merlin can’t look away from Arthur’s face.

“And you said you loved me and stopped me from doing it, so I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything,” Arthur replies, his tone probably more fond that he’d like to let on, a hand coming up to rest on Merlin’s hip.

“Then what, you want to kiss me because I made everyone bring you frogs?” Merlin asks, as if he doesn’t feel Arthur’s hand on him burning like fire, as if his own hands aren’t coming up to rest on Arthur’s chest, to cup his jaw.

“More like I love you in spite of it,” Arthur says, and Merlin can’t stop himself from jumping forward, their teeth clashing as he presses his mouth on Arthur’s, his arms swinging around his neck.

They stumble a little, Arthur pulling his head and he steps back to regain his balance, but his hands are firm on Merlin’s hip, holding him close. Merlin grins wide at him, his heart pumping loudly, and Arthur’s face lights ups beautifully as he smiles back.

“Eager, are we?” Arthur asks, but he’s leaning in again before Merlin can protest.

Not that it’d be very honest of him to do so, Merlin can admit so to himself, as he feels Arthur’s lips on his own, the kiss gentler this time, as the prince sets the pace. His mouth is warm, the kiss tastes of sausage, and Merlin feels warmth bubbling up in his chest, a curling feeling of happiness that makes him want to laugh, even though his lips are too busy on Arthur’s to do so.

“Are you sure loving me had nothing to do with trying to kiss me?” he asks, because apparently his mouth is still not busy enough to stop himself from mocking Arthur.

Arthur sighs loudly as if he’s thinking the exact same thing. “What does it take to stop you from talking? We were finally putting you to good use.”

“You can’t pretend you don’t like me talking, you _love_ me!” Merlin says, a smile breaking into his face again.

“You know it is possible to love someone and still immensely dislike some parts of them,” Arthur replies, his hand gentle as it rounds his hip, settling on his lower back.

“I do happen to know that very well, yes,” Merlin bumps his nose into Arthur’s cheek, feeding into his need to be as close as possible.

“Insulting your prince is treason,” Arthur reminds him, but Merlin can feel his smile against his own.

“Speaking of treason,” Merlin pulls back, “I’ve got to check on the spell.”

“What?” Arthur frowns at him. “No.”

“Uh, yeah,” Merlin pulls back, tugging a bit at Arthur’s hold on him without much success.

Arthur holds him close even as Merlin swats at his hands. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Merlin grins, cupping Arthur’s face with both hands and pressing his lips on Arthur’s, the need to laugh swelling in him. Arthur makes an appeased sound, relaxing his hold, and Merlin slips out of it, breaking the kiss with another grin.

“Merlin,” Arthur says in warning.

“I’ve got to go,” Merlin explains, moving towards the door.

“I order you to stay and kiss me again,” Arthur says, in a tone that’s not quite authoritative as it is petulant.

Merlin kind of wants to obey anyway because he doesn’t think Arthur’s ever ordered him to do something he’s so interested in doing. Instead he shrugs.“Got important work to do,” he says over his shoulder as he opens the door.

“I am your prince,” Arthur says, going after him, “and you will obey me, Merlin, or—”

“See you later!” Merlin calls out with a grin as he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

He’s still grinning, his cheeks starting to feel sore, as he turns around and sees Gaius, Lancelot, Gwen and Lady Mary in the hallway, all hunched together, whispering as they glance at the door. Lancelot is holding the three frogs Gwen had taken before, and it doesn’t seem to trouble him in the slightest.

“Merlin,” Gaius says, but his mentor seems unable to look at him properly, keeping his gaze low.

“The spell is broken!” Merlin announces to them, grinning, spreading his arms, and then hesitates. “Right?”

“It was only a matter of proximity,” Lancelot says, glancing at the older man beside him.

“Like the counterspell for Gaius’s charm!” Merlin realizes, looking between the two of them. “So you’ve tried it here and....”

“And it really did work,” Gwen says, looking embarrassed, “I can’t quite believe that just a few minutes ago I was.... I thought I was, I mean,” she says quickly, and laces a hand on Lancelot’s arm.

“Wouldn’t you know, in the end it wasn’t that—”

“Merlin!” The door behind him burst opens, and Arthur comes out, a frown on his face. “Didn’t I order you to stay inside? What’s going on?” he adds, as he sees the amount of people gathered right outside his chambers.

“The spell _is_ broken!” Merlin repeats to him. “You can finally leave your chambers!”

Arthur frowns. “I don’t _want_ to leave my chambers, you idiot, I want you to get back in here!”

Merlin grins, moving to do just so, hesitating as a frog jumps out of the room and lands right where he was about to land his foot.

“But first,” Arthur says, “since you were so eager to leave in the first place…”

“I wouldn’t say _eager_ ,” Merlin replies, careful not to step any frogs as he gets closer.

“ _But first_ ,” Arthur repeats, “you will get every single blasted frog out of my room, _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin turns to the others to hope for some compassion, because while perhaps, maybe, it might have been his fault that Arthur’s chambers have been invaded by frogs, it doesn’t have to mean it’s _fair_ that he’s the one who has to deal with it. Apparently no one wanted to explain to the prince what they did, or maybe they just didn’t want to get involved with the frog situation, because while he was talking to the prince the others seem to have vanished. He turns back to the prince, telling himself they did fix everything so he shouldn’t feel betrayed.

“Wouldn’t you rather if we went back inside and, you know,” Merlin raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Arthur crosses arms. “Get the damned frogs _out_.”

Merlin sighs, going back inside. It’s back to work, it seems.

“And then we’ll see about your suggestion,” Arthur says to his back, failing to sound aloof.

Merlin grins, even as he’s crouching down and chasing a frog, because, well. He doesn’t really mind having to catch the frogs, if it means he gets to keep the prince.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the fic, frst of all: thanks! I love you forever  
> Second if you're on tumblr, why not reblog the [hilarious post](http://lordvoldemortsnipple.tumblr.com/post/174062621284) I made advertising it? I'd owe you my soul ;)
> 
> If you got all the way down here, why not check my other Merthur fic?  
> [An Illusion of Sorts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6593434) \- The night Morgana sneaks a magic show into Arthur’s club is the same night Arthur meets Merlin. Arthur knows not everyone shares his opinion on how tasteless magic tricks are, but he still can’t understand why Merlin is so defensive of this Dragoon the Great.


End file.
